Magical Studies at Hogwarts...

Chapter 308 Dragon Flame

When everyone in the Ministry of Magic works together towards a common goal, the efficiency is quite high.

These people who still have a sense of justice can unleash tremendous power if given a highly feasible plan.

With a dragon, Dumbledore, and the Order of the Phoenix, they don't seem like they're going to lose.

Three days after meeting with Dumbledore, the Ministry of Magic mobilized almost its entire force, launching a full-scale counterattack for the first time, searching all of Britain for werewolves. If they were found, they immediately drew their wands and attacked, regardless of life or death.

This completely stunned the werewolves, and dozens were killed or captured on the first day.

Upon receiving the news, Graybury was furious. Without telling anyone, he immediately ordered the remaining local werewolves and the foreign werewolves to join forces and launch a counterattack.

As it turned out, even with the assistance of the Order of the Phoenix, the Ministry of Magic was still at a disadvantage in terms of combat capabilities. On the same day, the Ministry of Magic also lost more than a dozen people.

They didn't die, but they were all bitten.

However, this only caught the Ministry of Magic off guard, as not everyone knew about the existence of foreign werewolves. After the Ministry of Magic regained its composure, the werewolves were left only to be beaten.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Graybury shouted, leading the remaining hundreds of werewolves in a rapid run through the dense forest.

"Faster! The giants are just ahead!"

A new scar appeared on his face, left by the eldest son of the Weasley family. He was undoubtedly angry, but had no chance to retaliate and could only lead the werewolves in a desperate flight.

Admittedly, he could have used Phantom Teleport to escape, but doing so would have meant he automatically relinquished his identity as the werewolf leader.

Never before in history has a werewolf chieftain abandoned his tribe!

His pride wouldn't allow him to do such a thing.

Now, Greyback knew he had fallen into a trap and regretted not informing his master and young master before leading the tribe in a counterattack. Yes, Voldemort had given him the authority to "act as he saw fit," allowing him to launch attacks and incite unrest at will, but given the Ministry of Magic's full-scale counterattack, he really shouldn't have failed to consult his superiors.

Ultimately, it was my own impulsiveness that got the better of me.

But Greyback has no regrets! Even in his current sorry state, with his people being driven to the brink of exile by the Ministry of Magic, he has no regrets.

It's not the werewolves who regret it!

Scrimgeour felt a little regret, but only because of insufficient preparation beforehand; the dozen or so colleagues who were bitten could have been avoided. But as the saying goes: in war, how can there be no death?

"Minister, we're almost there."

A young Aoruo ran over, somewhat excitedly. Scrimgeour simply nodded, indicating he understood, and waved him back to his place. He then turned to the two composed old men beside him and said, "Gentlemen, get ready."

Their location was the agreed-upon spot, blocking the way in front of the Dark Forest. Further north, beyond the forest, lay the territory of the giant tribe.

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore looked into the distance and could vaguely see the werewolves at the valley entrance. He nodded to Newt beside him, who then laid the suitcase flat on the ground.

"Wait a minute!" Just as he was about to open it, Scrimgeour grabbed his hand.

"Wait until they all come in."

Newt didn't argue, and stood up quietly to wait.

Scrimgeour watched grimly as the werewolves charged into the valley. Only when a blinding red light rose high into the air at the valley entrance and then suddenly exploded did he shout, "Now!"

Upon hearing the sound, Newt immediately opened his suitcase and, without hesitation, ran back with Dumbledore and Scrimgeour. Thanks to Dumbledore's magic, they were back with the main group in the blink of an eye.

At that moment, a colossal dragon was already soaring through the air.

"roar!"

The dragon's roar was deafening, and its enormous wings, over twenty meters long, cast a massive shadow on the ground. The werewolves instinctively stopped in their tracks, a look of despair creeping onto their faces.

"run!"

Greyback shouted until his voice cracked, but as soon as the werewolves turned around, scorching dragonfire rained down from the sky and quickly spread toward the valley entrance.

Screams, screams, curses—English, French, German, and even Dutch—all mingled together, echoing through the valley that resembled a hellish landscape.

The dragon coiled, relentlessly spewing flames, and in a short time, half of the werewolves perished in the inferno. The remaining werewolves huddled together in twos and threes, struggling to erect a protective barrier, their strength uncertain.

Outside the valley, Dumbledore had already closed his eyes, while Newt's eyes were still open, but he was just staring blankly at the dragon that was still unleashing flames in the air.

Scrimgeour's eyes widened as he surveyed the Ministry of Magic personnel around him. Some had their eyes closed, some were trembling, and some had even collapsed unconscious. His face was ashen. He turned his head, lightly touched his throat with his wand, and murmured, "Destroy them!"

In an instant, the sound drowned out the dragon's roar and screams in the valley. Graybury heard it too, but before he could warn them, spells rained down from all sides.

"Thunderous explosion!"

"Flames are raging!"

Faintly, the sound of chanting could be heard, but for the remaining werewolves, it didn't matter what kind of spell it was.

They have completely lost the ability to fight back and can only hold their ground and wait to die.

The screams rang out again as the werewolves fell one after another. Greyback's eyes widened in horror, but he was powerless to do anything but watch helplessly as his people died either from dragon fire or from magic.

"what!"

Greyback roared to the sky, abandoning all defense and wildly waving his wand to help the werewolves who were still holding on to fend off the incoming spells.

"Gather together! Everyone, gather together!"

He ran non-stop, shouting as he ran. Those who heard his shouts continued to maintain their protective gear while doing their best to keep up with him.

Gradually, all the surviving werewolves gathered behind him. Taking advantage of a fleeting moment to catch their breath, they looked back and saw that only sixty or seventy werewolves remained.

"Charge! We have to charge out!"

Greyback ran headlong out of the valley, but the number of werewolves behind him was still dwindling. He hadn't gone far before only thirty or forty remained.

Just then, a distant dragon's roar echoed, and the giant dragon in the sky suddenly shut its mouth, flapping its enormous wings and flying north, finally landing in the dense forest. At the same time, the spells that had been attacking from all sides also stopped.

Seeing this, Greyback breathed a sigh of relief and looked around with bloodshot eyes. The surviving werewolves had the same expression, some even collapsing to the ground, panting heavily.

Dumbledore finally opened his eyes; Newt was no longer beside him. He calmly looked at Scrimgeour, only to see the gloom on his cold face.

There was even a hint of ferocity and distortion.

(End of this chapter)